Friday, August 20, 2010


Yarrow, it is one of the very few plants I have growing in my new flower garden. Oh, I plan to expand some but since I'm only going to have one flower garden I'm carefully selecting what goes in it. I want varrying leaves, types of flowers, and above all - plants that are not fussy about their soil. We haven't decent soil and though I've worked for several years on this spot in preparation of moving some of the flowers from the front to the back yard, I know the ground will quickly return to what it once was CLAY.

This yarrow won the honor of the move since it did well in poor soil, and was a nice contrast to the other flowers. Little did I know it is native to the Northern Hemisphere and as you can see there is one volunteer clump growing in front of the wood pile this year. Since little but grass and stumby sagebrush grows in this part of Wyoming, seeing this plant nestled against the wood reminded me of trips to the Big Horn mountains which is a few hours away. Though it might as well be days as little as we get away to enjoy them. But since I've always lived on one side or the other from these mountains, I've visited them through out my life and so my imagination tickled a memory and as I peered down the lens of my camera I swore I could smell fresh mountain air with its hint of wood smoke and I longed to be there staying in a cabin far from civilization. I could be a hermit so easily. When I walked back and forth between the two plants, the one in my garden and the one by the wood pile, I noticed that my garden's had a much bushier fern leaf growth and it made me wonder, was the woodpile yarrow offspring or a distant wild cousin?
And actually before this moment, I had no idea what plant was growing in my yard as it had always been Fern to me. You know I can't identify very many flowers by name with this poor memory. And a friend had told me what it was when she gave it to me but the name never stuck until I searched my Weeds Of The West book and then looked on the Internet. My curiosity was peeked since not even the Russian Olives have offspring in this poor soild countryside. Where as over the mountain they are a outlawed pesk as they have taken over much of the pastures during our recent long years of drought.

What popped up on the Internet surprised me. It seems I chose wisely to keep this plant as this pretty addition is one with wonderful medicinal value. In herbal medicine, all the plant is used. The flowers and stems are dried and a infusion of it is excellent when battling colds, flus, bleeding, and a number of other problems. But for now, I'll just enjoy its beauty.

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